Children of Hope

by David Feintuch

  “Where is he?”

  “In the cells, awaiting adjudication.” Thank the Lord. No one had told me. For the moment, Kev was safe.

  “Was he part of it?”

  “There’s no proof.”

  “Release him.”

  “No.”

  “I order it.”

  “You’re not in command.” Tolliver grimaced. “I say that with all due respect, sir. At the moment, I am Captain of Olympiad. I’ll gladly relinquish command when you’re recovered.”

  “What’s this boy’s status?”

  “Ask him.”

  “I have. Now I’m asking you.”

  “I won’t discuss it.”

  Seafort threw up his hands. “Edgar …” He softened his voice. “Do we have a friendship?”

  “I would hope so.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No, sir, I will not.”

  “Very well, you leave me no choice. I reassume command of Olympiad.”

  “I don’t give my assent. You’re an invalid. You sleep fifteen hours a day.”

  “I’m weak, but I’m lucid.”

  “You’re not fit for command.”

  “That’s nonsen—”

  Tolliver flung his cap past the startled doctor’s nose. “Very well, sir, you’re fit? Walk to the bridge.”

  “What?”

  “When you walk to the bridge under your own steam, I’ll relinquish command. Until then, I’ll do my duty as I see it!”

  “Edgar!”

  “Good day, sir.” A stiff salute, that wasn’t returned. After a moment, Tolliver retrieved his cap, stalked out.

  “Romez.” Seafort’s voice was taut. “Help me to the bed. You’d better go, boy.”

  Janks began unclasping my restraints.

  “Sir?” My voice was tremulous.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t hate him.”

  “Have no fear. We bicker like an old married couple.”

  “I want you to know …” I resisted Janks’s pull toward the hatch. “I’m truly sorry for what I did.”

  He was climbing into the bed. “I’m glad you feel so.”

  Inexorably, Janks hauled me to the hatch.

  “Good-bye, sir.”

  The hatch slid shut.

  Once we were clear of sickbay, Janks was surprisingly gentle. He guided me below, to the row of cells.

  I raised my voice. “Good-bye, Kev!” I hesitated just a moment. “I’m sorry. Ask your father to forgive me!”

  Janks deposited me in my cell. To my astonishment, he returned with a tray of all sorts of sweets a boy might like. Cake, ice cream, hard candies. For the sake of his kindness, I sampled them.

  How should one spend the last night of one’s life?

  In one sense, I felt good. I’d passed all my tests save the last.

  I’d resisted temptation over and again, and no more lay before me.

  Soon I’d reach safe harbor.

  But there was the other Randy, who felt a constant need to piss. Whose hands were clammy, whose shirt was damp with sweat. Whose stomach hardened into a knot. Who didn’t know whether to waste precious hours in sleep, or pace the cell to no purpose.

  In the small hours, the hatch opened.

  Edgar Tolliver, his eyes bleak. “I brought you this. No need to stand.” A holovid, and blank chips. He set them on my bunk.

  To record my farewell messages. My throat tightened. “Thank you.”

  He shifted, as if hesitant. “Randy, I never served with Derek; I barely knew him. But if you’d shown one whit of remorse, I’d have pardoned you for Nick’s sake. Even now …”

  So. Temptation was not yet past.

  I rose to my feet. “Thank you for the offer.”

  “Why are you so stubborn?”

  A smile I couldn’t help. “My father made me so.”

  “I understand you blamed Nick for Galactic, and it warped you. That much came out in your interrogation.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m not without mercy. What I’m doing will cost me a lifetime’s friendship with Nick Seafort. He’ll never speak to me again.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Oh, it’s so. The moment he finds who you are.”

  “Then, why …” I couldn’t help the question, though it seemed self-serving.

  “Because I believe justice must be done, and seen to be done. We live in an era of law, not the Rebellious Ages. The stability of society depends on malefactors being punished. What other lunatic with murder in his heart would be encouraged by your pardon?”

  “Then why would you allow my remorse to influence—”

  “Because I’m human, not a machine!” It was a cry from the heart. “I’m not like those bloody fish, that hurt us without reason, attacked with no cause. I can love. I have daughters. I have a grandchild a year younger than you!”

  “If I beg you, will you issue a pardon?”

  “In all likeli …” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “Trust me.”

  “Then I beg you.” Swallowing infinite pride, I got down on my knees. “Pardon Kevin Dakko, sir. He’s done nothing, knew nothing, is utterly innocent. I beg you to pardon him.”

  “Janks, open this hatch! Open it at once!”

  When I looked up, he was gone.

  Late in the morning they came for me.

  Master-at-arms Janks, with two burly seamen.

  And trailing behind, Reverend Pandeker. “My son—”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  The master-at-arms looked startled. “Spiritual consolation. You’ve the right to confess—”

  “NO!”

  Pandeker raised a meaty palm. “Of course you’re distraught. Let His strength guide you through your travail. Randolph, make a clean breast of it; go to Him with—”

  I pounded my knee. How could I compose myself for what was to follow, with that unctuous fool’s bleating? “Please!” It was an entreaty.

  “Reverend …”

  “Janks, his soul is at stake. I’ll walk with—”

  “I think not.” Casually, the master-at-arms stepped between us.

  Pandeker glared. “You’d come between holy Mother Church and her work?”

  “He declines your services. If you need be present, you’ll need the Captain’s authorization.” Janks keyed open the hatch. “Sir …”

  For a moment it seemed as if Pandeker would contest the issue, but at last he stalked out.

  Janks turned to me with a sigh. “I have to tape your mouth, Mr Carr. That’s how it’s done.”

  “Oh, God.” I squeezed my knee. “Can you find Mr Anselm, so I can ask him to walk with me?”

  “I don’t—all right, I’ll ring his cabin. But we have to hurry.” They left the hatch open, the two sailors standing guard.

  Two minutes passed. Three.

  “I’m sorry, it’s time. The Captain—”

  Running steps.

  “I’m here.” Tad, out of breath.

  “He’s about to tape my mouth. You do it. Please!”

  Anselm flinched. “I can’t—” A deep breath. “Very well.” He took the tape from Janks. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded.

  Gently, almost tenderly, he placed it across my mouth. “I’ll be there every step of the way, boy.”

  Except the last.

  Janks muttered, “Now his hands.” Then, “I hate this.”

  Hands locked behind me, my feet shackled, a sailor to my left, Janks in front, Anselm holding my right arm, we began our slow journey. I glanced at Tad and tried to eye a question.

  “Below, Randy. The engine room. The shaft.”

  As good a place as any.

  We shuffled to the lift.

  We sank into the bowels of the ship.

  The hatch opened.

  Level 6.

  We progressed at a snail’s pace along the curving corridor.

  Not a crewman was to be seen.

  Ahead, a familiar hatch.

&n
bsp; Slowly, we approached. Cowardice fully unsheathed, I shortened my steps until I barely moved.

  Inexorably, Janks urged me forward. Despite my best efforts, I neared the hatch.

  I tried to scream. Barely a sound escaped my gag.

  We were at the hatchway. A dozen meters within, the fusion drive shaft. Erected over it, a plank. From it hung a rope.

  My legs gave way. I sprawled, hanging from the grip of Janks and Anselm.

  Tad knelt. “Look at me!” I did. His cheeks were wet. “I promised. Look at me, Randy. You’ve kept your courage. Only a few moments more.”

  Somehow, they got me to my feet.

  At the shaft, Captain Tolliver waited. With him stood a half-dozen officers: two middies, Lieutenant Skor, Dr Romez, others I didn’t know.

  I took a step, could go no farther.

  I began to wet my pants.

  The speaker crackled.

  A thin voice, reedy, weary. “This is Nicholas Ewing Seafort, speaking from the bridge. Recovered from my injury, I hereby reassume command of UNS Olympiad. Mr Tolliver, you are reverted to the rank of lieutenant.”

  Not a soul moved.

  “All hands take note: the execution of Randolph Carr is stayed. The sentence of the court is vacated. Escort him to the bridge. Mr Tamarov, to the bridge, Lieutenant Anselm, to the bridge. Mr Ghent, to the bridge.” A pause. “Mr Tolliver, to the bridge.”

  Too late.

  I’d met my test, and made a hash of it.

  8

  IT TOOK SOME DOING to remove the tape; skintape was used in surgery, and was supposed to be irremovable. No doubt even surgeons found need on occasion, but it took a long sprint by Dr Romez to sickbay for the solvent.

  They let me change my clothes. No. They changed my clothes. By that point I was incapable. Sobbing, I rested my cheek on Tad Anselm’s shoulder. He and Janks worked the damp trousers off my legs, brought towel and water, maneuvered me into fresh pants.

  Romez offered a sedative; I refused.

  I managed to walk, though my legs were unsteady. By now, I knew the way. The circumference corridor seemed familiar, almost home. I noticed details I hadn’t before. The hatches were trimmed in gold paint. On every Level except the topmost, framed art hung from the bulkheads. On a warship, no less. I shook my head.

  Unrestrained, I walked onto the bridge, Anselm behind me.

  Tolliver was there, impassive. Mikhael, subdued, stared at the deck.

  “Lieutenant Tad Anselm repor—”

  Captain Seafort was in his robe, the belt drawn tight. One hand gripped the black leather chair behind his console. He waved Tad silent, gestured to me. “Come here.”

  Uncertain, I edged forward. Now, there would be retribution. How would he punish me?

  He caught my shirt, pulled me the last step, swept me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Randy. So sorry.”

  I clung to him, knowing this couldn’t be so.

  At last, he released me. “We’ll talk in a moment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mikhael.”

  His son came close. Of the two, the father was taller. He bent, just far enough to look into Mik’s eyes. His voice was soft. “By my order, you’re off duty now. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, sir. Yes, Pa.”

  “You knew, and didn’t tell me?”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Seafort cuffed him in the mouth. The boy’s eyes teared.

  “Go to my cabin. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Yes, sir!” Mikhael ran from the bridge.

  “As for you, Tad—”

  “No! Blame me!” I tugged at the Captain’s sleeve.

  “He betrayed our relationship.”

  “It was that or betray me. He had no right choice.”

  “Yes, he did. Tad, I’m disappointed.”

  “Tell him, Tad! How you helped me.”

  “Don’t, Randy.” Anselm stirred. “I accept the blame, sir, and whatever will follow.”

  “Are you all gone mad? Do you think me an ogre?” Seafort reached for his chair, nearly stumbled, managed to sit. “You’re right, Edgar. It was a long, long journey from sickbay. I almost stopped to rest.” For a moment he let his eyes close. “No doubt we’ll be a while sorting this out. I know you all, and imagine there’s honor in what each of you did.”

  “Odd that you slapped the midshipman, then.” Tolliver.

  “I didn’t slap the midshipman, I slapped my son. Mik owed me higher loyalty, and knows it. I didn’t hurt him.”

  “What will you do with …” Tolliver’s lip curled. “The boy?”

  “With Randolph Carr?” Seafort gave special emphasis to my name, as if to underscore his outrage that it had been hidden. “Thank heaven I called up the Log the moment I got to the bridge. Young Mr Carr is paroled.”

  “To whose custody, sir?”

  “My own.”

  “That’s outrageous!”

  “Edgar, you go too far.”

  “Sir, you risk your life. He’s unstable.”

  “It’s my life to risk.”

  “He should have been hanged.”

  “We won’t execute Derek’s son, no matter what the cause. You know that.”

  “You know that, sir. I don’t share your certainty.”

  “Enough. We’ll speak on it, after.”

  “After what?”

  “After we calm down. Go, all of you. I’ll speak with Randy alone.”

  “Sir, you won’t be safe.”

  “Randy, will you harm me?”

  “No, sir. I swear it by—by God, by my father, anything you want.”

  “There, you see? Out.”

  In a moment we were alone.

  “Sit right there, boy. Now …” Mr Seafort’s eyes bored into mine. “Tell me. Everything.”

  And I did.

  Afterward, reeling with exhaustion, I found my way to the cells, but Janks wouldn’t let me in. He had to call the purser, who called the officer of the watch, who called the Captain, who’d been taken by wheeled chair to his cabin.

  I finally found myself in a tiny cabin immediately adjoining Mr Seafort’s. I kicked off my shoes, began to undo my shirt, perched on the bed for convenience, and passed out.

  When I came to, the clock indicated it was morning. I went to the head, but had nothing to wear but my slept-in clothes.

  A soft knock on my hatch.

  “Come in.”

  A high-pitched voice. “I can’t, sir. You locked it.”

  I keyed the control.

  A youngster. He couldn’t have been more than twelve, but wore a sailor’s work blues. He bore a tray. “Hi, sir. I’m Alejandro. Ship’s boy. They call me Alec.”

  I blinked.

  “Cap’n thought you’d like breakfast.”

  Food? I ought not even be alive.

  He threw back a napkin. A mound of toast, a dish of scrambled eggs and potatoes. Sausage. Probably soy, but nonetheless …

  My mouth watered. I gestured to the table built into the far bulkhead. He set down the tray, spread the napkin, pulled out my seat.

  I watched him work. Someone had gone to great trouble to cut down a uniform to his diminutive size, or stitch one. What he wore couldn’t be standard issue.

  I asked, “What does a ship’s boy do?”

  “I help.” He seemed to think it explained his role.

  I inhaled half my serving of eggs. “How?”

  “Whatever’s needed. Like, the galley’s shorthanded, now almost everyone’s ashore. Or, I run to get things for the middies and work crews. Or put things away when they’re done. You’ve never seen a ship’s boy?”

  “I’ve never seen a ship.” Just through the station porthole, visiting with Dad.

  Two pieces of toast disappeared. I reached for another.

  “Isn’t she a zark? Took me a week to learn my way around. ’Course, I was only ten. I’ll be twelve next week. Gotta go, sir.”

  I nodded, too consumed with my task to answer.


  At last, somewhat sated, I leaned back. A sigh of relief, in the empty chamber.

  “Oh, good, you’re up.”

  I whirled. Captain Seafort, in uniform, in the hatchway.

  I jumped to my feet. “Good morning, sir.”

  “Everyone wants to know what to do with you. Feed you, I told them. Then we’ll see. I’ll be heading to the bridge and could use your assistance.”

  “Of course.”

  “I spent some months in a wheelchair, and loathed it.” He took my hand. “This helps when I get dizzy.”

  “Yessir.” If I sounded fawning, obsequious, it didn’t matter.

  The incident I’d begun in the Dining Hall was far from over—I wasn’t an utter fool—but I didn’t care. I had made a gesture on Dad’s behalf, however misguided. The burden of that folly was lifted. Mr Seafort would survive; I’d escaped a guilt so great I couldn’t have borne it. Now, in his good time, would come punishment. I could wait.

  He took me to the next-door cabin. Considerably larger than mine, low dividers carved it into sections: a bedroom area and a common room with another, narrower bed in a corner.

  Mikhael lounged in a soft chair, in shirtsleeves, his collar open. Janey sat in his lap. Lifting the child, he stood. “Pa.”

  “He was awake.” Seafort steered me to a seat.

  “Hi, Randy.” Mik sounded shy.

  Seafort took a sip from a half-finished cup of coffee.

  “Mikhael.” I nodded.

  “You all right?” we asked simultaneously.

  I giggled. “Yes. Is this what you do when you’re off duty?”

  “As often as not. I used to live here, before Pa let me enlist.”

  With a glance at the Captain I said, “Is he still angry at you?”

  “Of course not.” Before I could figure that out, he added, “Pa says you told him your whole story.”

  I nodded, suddenly shy.

  “I’m glad there’s peace between you.”

  “Not—” Not peace. The calm before the storm. I looked over my shoulder. “Mr Seafort?” I hesitated, but best to have it out in the open. “What did you mean about parole?”

  He set down his cup. “You were adjudged guilty. I vacated your sentence. So now, technically, you’re awaiting resentencing. I paroled you from the brig.”

  “Why?”

  “To get to know you.”

  “Will you let him go, Pa?”

  “That’s ship’s business, son.”

  “Should I put on my tie and ask it as a middy?”